Lost Memories
by Counter Spark
Summary: Fulfilling the Dark Lord’s task was torture for Draco Malfoy, but letting her go was even worse. Set during HBP. D/Hr.
1. Encounter

**Title: **Lost Memories

**Author: **Counter Spark

**Disclaimer: **Surprise! I don't own Harry Potter! I know...cause you guys really thought I did. I figured I'd have to set the record straight and all.

**Summary: **Fulfilling the Dark Lord's task was torture for Draco Malfoy, but letting her go was even worse. Set during HBP. D/Hr.

**Author's Note: **I swear...I always said one day I would start a multi-chapter story that I would finish, and I really think this is the one, people. Hold my hand. We're gonna do get through this, I promise. Also, I just figured I should point this out cause it was one of my pet peeves...I take great pride in having everyone in my stories in character, so if you've never read any of my stories, just know Malfoy is an insufferable git and Hermione is a bitchy know-it-all. Just the way God intended it. So, with that out of the way, enjoy! And R&R if you're a good person, which I'm sure you are. :]

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The first thing that made Hermione suspicious was the fact that she wasn't alone.

For as long as she'd been attending Hogwarts there was one thing she knew very clearly: no one used the library as much as her. Sometimes she could tell that it even annoyed Madame Pince, but she didn't care...as far as she was concerned, the library was opened until midnight, and if that meant that she was the only one in it between the hours of eight o' clock and closing, so be it. Besides, the Common Room had never been an ideal place for study; Hermione learned that early on. Not with Harry and Ron talking her ear off about Quidditch practice and and their hatred of almost every professor (_because they committed the unforgivable crime of actually making them do work, _she thought amusedly, rolling her eyes) and trying to convince her between every breath to put down her homework and join them in a game of Exploding Snap.

_And that, of course, will not do, _she thought, sighing primly to herself and making another mark on her Arithmancy equation, eyes scanning down the feet-long scroll of parchment.

Another noise broke her focus and she groaned, setting her quill in her bottle of ink and leaning back as far as she could, relishing in the sound of her popping vertebrae. How long had it been since _he _started coming to the library at night? Had it only been a week ago?

At first Hermione had ignored his presence, as she always had no matter where he was anyway, but it had somehow become increasingly difficult. One of the most annoying things about him being there, strangely, was the fact that he had not once looked up to acknowledge that she was there. In fact, she would've felt much more comfortable if he was throwing paper wads at her or calling her a Mudblood whenever he passed her table for a book. He'd been eerily silent. It was alarmingly out of character, and it made Hermione even more uneasy about the whole thing.

Part of her even wondered if he _had _seen her, which was even more off-putting. It didn't matter when she came in or how late she started dinner. Malfoy was there it his usual seat, almost buried behind a tall stack of ancient-looking books, bent forward over an open page and scribbling on a scroll of parchment, tapping his foot and pausing every five seconds to hold his head in his heads and mutter something to himself. Not once had she glanced up to see him looking anywhere _but _the inside of a book, which was strange considering how little he seemed to care about studying in class...

But this night he was particularly distracting. Usually Hermione could ignore the quill sucking and the foot tapping and the trips to the bookshelves every ten minutes if she tried hard enough, but there was something different tonight. His usual mutterings were somehow louder. It seemed as though every time she flipped a page, he was out of his seat and rummaging through a pile of books on the other side of the library. _ "Honestly," _she mumbled under her breath as he got up for the fourth time in five minutes, hoping inwardly that he could hear her and maybe adjust accordingly. He did not. Hermione turned around for a moment, catching Madame Pince's eye. They both shared a knowing look before sneering at Malfoy and going back to their business. _It's like he's never been in a library before, _she thought to herself angrily as she heard Pince walk out of the library, the light from the hall dashing across her desk for a moment along with the librarian's thin, wavering shadow.

That's when she heard it. A horrible commotion of falling books and a loud, resounding thud. Hermione dropped her quill and shrieked a bit, looking around wildly for the source of the noise. She tutted thickly before speaking. "...Hello?" Setting the quill down, she timidly scooted her chair back and stood up, making herself speak his name. _"Malfoy?" _It felt like poison, coming off of her lips.

No response. Sighing loudly, she walked down the closest bookshelf, running her hands past the exposed spines of the books, taking her sweet time. The further she walked, the more she wished she'd stayed in her seat.

"Malfoy," she said flatly, turning the corner towards another endless row of bookshelves. She closed her eyes and walked down one randomly, speaking lowly to herself. "What are you trying to pull-?" Hermione opened her eyes and gasped out an involuntary, _"Oh-!"_

There he was in the middle of the aisle, flat on his back and surrounded by half-open books, a thick layer of dust still hovering in the air.

"Merlin," she uttered breathlessly, rushing over mostly out of human response and not really thinking about who it was that was sprawled out unconscious on the library floor. Cautiously, she kneeled down next to him and spoke his name again, more firmly this time, gripping his shoulder gently. "Malfoy, can you hear me?"

A terrible moment of absolute silence passed before he groaned loudly and twitched his head to the side, eyes blinking open slowly and then going wide with terror at the sight of _her. _"What the-?" He snapped into a sitting position, his overlong legs flailing a little bit, and smacked her hand away, horrified. "What did you _do _to me?" Malfoy snapped his head around, taking in the fallen books and the empty library, momentarily stunned and somehow convinced that she had something to do with all of this. "And most importantly," he started, narrowing his gray eyes at her, "why were you_ touching me_?" He visibly shuddered and took a heaving breath, grabbing his temples.

_There he is, _Hermione thought with a small laugh to herself, standing up and dusting off her skirt. The Malfoy she'd always known. _And here I was thinking he wasn't acting like himself. _"Well," she started with a harrumph, throwing her hands on her hips, "for your information, I was just trying to quietly study when the sound of you _passing out _distracted me from my work. But excuse me- next time I'll just leave you unconscious on the floor."

"Alright, don't be a bitch about it, Granger," he muttered, rubbing his temples in hard, circular motions with his fingertips, slowly getting up from his spot on the ground. When he finally was standing firmly on both feet, he flashed her an annoyed look as his patent smirk stretched across his narrow face. "...You can go now."

"Oh, well I'm sorry! I was just waiting for a 'thank you', but I guess that's just expecting too much, isn't it?" _Of all the nerve, _she thought strongly, folding her arms across her chest and trying to muster the dirtiest look she possibly could.

He regarded her coldly before taking a deep intake of breath and glaring in the distance at nothing in particular, that indescribably horrible sneer stretching across his pale face. "If I say it, will you go away?"

"Yes, Malfoy," she responded cheerily, absentmindedly drawing a book from the shelf next to her and flipping through the pages before putting it back. Translating another novel for Ancient Runes couldn't hurt, especially if she wanted to pass her N.E.W.T. She'd consider it later. "In fact, I would be _delighted_ to walk away from you."

A slight smile broke across his features. "You know what? I decided I don't feel like thanking a Mudblood today. Now if you'll excuse me." He turned on his heel again, a couple of absolutely ancient-looking books stuffed underneath his armpit, before stumbling dangerously and throwing an arm out to catch himself.

"_-Whoa!" _Hermione dashed forward in front of him and grabbed his arms firmly, letting his weight fall on her and staring pointedly at his face, gaping a bit. His head hung limply and his eyes swam for almost five seconds before gaining any recognition of her, and when they did they went wide again with horror as he flung her away from him.

"Stop doing that!" His nose flared out as he breathed deeply, kneeling down in an almost embarrassed manner and picking up his fallen books for the second time.

Hermione almost didn't know what to say. There were so many options really, and all of them raced through her head at light-speed. Finally, she settled with something and balled her hands into fists at her sides, fuming. "Stop what, then? Helping you? _Honestly_, I'm...I'm telling Madam Pince!"

Suddenly he was up on his feet again and his cold hands were gripping her elbows with much more strength than she would've wagered he had. "No you will not." His voice dipped dangerously low as a frightening light took over his eyes. She could feel his shallow breaths on her neck- in fact, Hermione could've swore she could hear his heart racing, but then again, it could've been her own. For the first time, she really looked at him, the dim, yellow lights of the library framing his face and throwing shadows across it. He looked..._positively terrifying, _she thought, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

How had she not noticed how..._ill_ he looked? He'd always been pale, an alarming shade of white, but now...now she could practically see through him. Like he was the color of bone. His bright eyes were surrounded by purple lids that seemed to sink into his skull, and was it just her, or had he somehow managed to get taller _and_ thinner?

His white-blonde hair fell over his eyes in strands as he took a deep, pained breath, his long fingers digging into the sides of her arms. "Do you understand me?"

Hermione felt completely hollow, small tremors running through her stomach as the sound of the library door creaking broke the silence. He didn't let go of her. "Malfoy...what's wrong with you?" She whispered to him, eyebrows furrowed and part of her actually concerned for the poor git.

He opened his mouth, as if debating on what to say, before letting his hands fall away from her and backing up a few paces, horrified. "Just...just leave me alone, Granger."

Afraid to move, she watched him stalk off around the corner and disappear, his books still lying on the dusty floor, spines up. Closing her eyes and focusing on the cold sting his hands had left on her arms, she held her breath until she heard the quick sound of the door open and close, a square of light from the hall appearing on the broad wall in front of her, his long shadow stretching from the floor to the ceiling before disappearing into darkness again.

"Granger?" Madam Pince's high-pitched voice broke the silence and sent her heart skipping erratically around in her chest. "Granger, are you still here?"

She drew a shaking breath and closed her eyes. "Yes, Madam Pince. I'm just about to leave." Opening her eyes in a flash, she noticed Malfoy's books tossed on the ground and dropped to her knees, picking them up carefully and turning them around in her hands. _What would he possibly need with these? _She thought, running her fingers down the old, leather covers. The first one, a giant blue volume with Medieval-looking font, read: _Restoring Ancient Artifacts and How to Care for Them. _The second, a heavily worn brown book with cracking, yellowed pages, read: _Magical Travel and the Many Ways of Accomplishing It: The Science of Apparition, Floo, and Other Means of Travel. _She wouldn't have been so suspicious if she didn't know so very plainly nothing Malfoy was learning in classes at the moment could possibly have anything to do with these subjects.

Standing up and holding his books to her chest, she calmly walked back to her desk, stuffed everything into her bag, and walked out of the library, so many untraceable thoughts running through her head.


	2. Pulling Back The Curtains

**Disclaimer: **Coming up with witty disclaimers about how I don't own Harry Potter exhausts me. I'm just gonna sit this one out (I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER).

**A/N: **A new chapter?! Waaaht?!! So who was surprised by the awesome amount of support and reviews for this story? Uh, me, that's who. I was, honestly. I love the reviews, people. They make me a happy, happy girl. So if you like this story, you should, you know...keep 'um coming! This is probably the quickest I've written a second chapter to something, and you'll all be very excited to know I'm already done with the third one. Yeah, I know right? It's nuts. So I'll let this one float around for a little bit, get in as many reviews as I can, and the third one will be up in no time. It's true what they say- planning before you write and actually having an idea about where your story's going to go makes a big difference. Truly, it does. So here it is, chapter two. Enjoy.

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Hermione would've loved to research more about whatever was wrong with Draco Malfoy, but the moment she saw her bed, made neatly with the sheets pulled tight and clean like always, she couldn't help but sling her book bag over the baseboard and collapse, not even bothering to slip out of her skirt or undo her tie. With the lights out, buried deep beneath her lion-crested comforter and deep scarlet sheets, she couldn't help but feel like she should be crying. She took a deep breath, an empty sort of pain spreading out through her chest, before sighing and closing her eyes, drifting off immediately.

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Slughorn's class the next day was a particularly slow one, mostly because it was one of those common days in which Hermione already knew _everything _he was teaching. Sometimes it made her feel guilty and sometimes it made her feel particularly bright, but today she was just bored. There were moments when she'd put a valiant effort into listening to the large professor go on about the effects of a Cheering Potion (_How complicated can it be, _she thought irritably, tapping her quill against the table. _The title says everything..._), but before long the words were just slipping away and she was thinking about the two books weighing heavily in her bag and the dead look in Malfoy's eyes the night before when he turned the corner and disappeared.

Not to mention he'd been glaring at her since the beginning of class, his arms folded across his chest and that horrible, horrible sneer taking over the lower half of his narrow face. He wasn't even being subtle about it- there were a few times Slughorn would look over at him, pause, follow his unmoving gaze to her, clear his throat, and continue with a nervous double take. Even Ron noticed, elbowing her in the middle of class and gesturing to Malfoy with wide, obvious eyes, questioning. She simply shrugged and resumed pretending to listen to the lesson, the heat from Malfoy's stares practically burning a hole through her. It made her want to scream.

And that's when it hit her. Meeting his gaze evenly, she grinned and reached down, groping blindly in her book bag until she felt a familiar, worn leather cover slide underneath her fingertips, greeting her. The moment she took it out and laid it neatly in front of her his face went slack.

_Hit a nerve, have I? _It was the brown book she pulled out, the thick, yellowed pages sticking straight up when she flipped it open to a section with the bottom corner folded over, bookmarked. She smoothed down the open page and it took everything within Hermione not to gasp.

Well this explained all the nights in the library, tapping his feet and holding his head in his hands, muttering to himself and driving Madam Pince crazy. The entire page was practically covered in notes, haphazard scrawls in dripping, black ink. She had to squint to see what the actual page was about behind his layers of writing. There was a little diagram at the top that looked to be nothing more than an ordinary cabinet, and right above that was the section title. _Chapter 9: Lesser Known Modes of Travel. _She tried to decipher Malfoy's writing, but it all just looked like barbaric slashes to her except for a few words written at the end of an arrow he'd drawn from the picture.

_They'll come in through here._

For some reason, that sentence seemed to chill her to the bone, and when she looked back up and met his gaze, she knew without a doubt that she'd just found something out about Draco Malfoy that she most definitely was _not_ supposed to know. Her stomach swooped sickeningly at the sight of him. He looked blanched-out, maybe even more colorless and dead-looking than the night before (_If that's even possible_, she thought to herself, taking stunted breaths), and after a few seconds of blank staring, he leaned forward in his seat and fixed her with a painfully intense glare, a look of absolute hatred etched on every line and magnified in every shadow on his face.

He looked like death.

"And uhm...well I suppose that does it for the day, class! Study up on Cheering Potions and next class I'll be grading you on your own. Finnigan, stay after for a bit if you could, we need to discuss how you'll be repaying me for the cauldron you destroyed last week...."

Hermione's eyes were locked with Malfoy's as everyone started to empty out of the classroom, the sound of chairs scraping against the stone floor and meaningless chatter about the next Quidditch match floating dully around the back of her head, unimportant. He made a sudden movement and she reacted, jumping back from her spot at the table and grabbing her belongings in a flash, last but not least the brown book. Too scared to look at where he was, she stashed the book in her bag and bolted out into the hallway, practically jogging to catch up with Ron and Harry, who were rushing down the hall towards the Qudditch Pitch...Ron had mentioned something about trying to get in some practice. _Merlin knows he needs it, _she thought to herself, panting and slowing down a bit.

That's when she felt a cold hand clench around her elbow and yank her back forcefully into the shadows. She would've screamed, but the moment she had the idea of doing it there was another cold palm stretched across her mouth roughly, long fingers digging into her cheek. He'd pulled her beneath a staircase, completely hidden to everyone who walked by in the hallway, looking straight ahead with their books clasped to their chests. She moaned helplessly into his palm.

His breath was hot on her neck. "Where do you think you're going, Granger? I believe you have something of mine that you took without asking. I find that a little rude...in fact, it sort of makes me _angry." _He paused and sighed to himself, letting his hand fall away from her mouth. She could barely see him in the darkness- the only thing that was completely clear to her were his eyes, which seemed to have some evil, alight glow to them that unnerved her beyond words. "So...just give me the books back and we can be done with this, alright? I'll let you run back and tell Potter and Weasel what a horrible person I am and we can just move on with our lives..."

Her throat hurt when she spoke. "Harry was right about you."

Silence. "Oh, really? Explain yourself, Mudblood."

"He knows you're doing something under..._His _orders." She tried to fight the shudder but it came anyway, running like a sudden, cold water through her veins. "I didn't believe him. In fact, I told him he was crazy. But now I know he was right...now I know what you're up to, Malfoy."

"Oh, yeah? What do you know, Granger?" The feel of his hands on her shoulders made her shriek. _"Merlin," _he groaned, swearing lightly under his breath. "You don't have to scream about it..." She heard a shuffle of robes before he muttered, _"Lumos."_

Hermione squinted at the light, looking full-on into his face and saying the first thing that came to her mind. She thought of the book. The page covered in manic writing. That cryptic message scrawled in blotchy ink. "_They'll come in through here._ Who's going to come in, Malfoy? And what was that cabinet-"

He dropped his wand and backed away from her, the sound of his heavy breathing echoing in the small space. When he finally spoke, there was an undeniable madness in his voice- a weak, almost broken quality she'd never heard before from him. Frankly, it scared her. "Oh, Merlin...Oh, _God_..." She could barely make out his face from the light on the ground, but what she saw seemed to be twisted into a terrible look of pain.

"What?" She kneeled down and picked up his wand, pointing it at him. When she threw the light over him he had his head in his hands, moaning lightly. "What's wrong?"

He backed as far away from her as possible until he was flat against the stone wall. "Give me my wand back, now."

She laughed breathlessly, without humor. "Why, so you can hex me? _Obliviate_ me?"

Suddenly his eyes went soft, pleading. It took her so completely off guard that it frightened her...Draco Malfoy was never supposed to look at her like _that._ "You don't understand, Granger. This is so much more than you can possibly fathom." He staggered forward unsteadily, holding his hand out in front of him towards his wand. The lights in his eyes were going mad, the shadows on his face stretching across his pale skin for miles.

She raised his wand at him fully and he stopped dead in his tracks. "You really are," she breathed to herself. "You really are a Death Eater, aren't you?" Hermione shook her head, stunned. _"Why?"_

His seethed, eyes darting. _"You don't know anything about me, okay?_ You don't know _shit_ about my family or where I come from, so don't you sodding stand there and judge me." Then again, that foreign look of softness entered his eyes and her insides went cold. "Just please, I'm bloody _begging_ you. Give me the books back and walk away." He went forward another step, reaching out. "Give me my wand back and walk away."

"_I can't now, can I?" _She advanced on him, alarmed by how frightened he seemed. Sure, she'd spent a good deal of her life loathing him, but she could spot that complete look of helplessness on anyone. It seemed hard to believe that no one else had noticed how completely ravaged he looked...how much like a zombie he seemed to be, staring blankly ahead through his classes only to retreat away to the library at night, racking his brain and going mad. Hermione couldn't ignore the surge of pity for him, and she reached out for his arm. He jumped at her touch but didn't move away. "Tell me what you're doing. We'll go to Dumbledore. He'll protect you...I know it's sounds awful, but you can't go through with whatever you're thinking about doing, Malfoy. I can tell just by your reaction that it's way worse than I imagined..."

He let out a trembling breath and backed away from her, visibly shaking. "I won't listen to this," he blurted, voice jumping uncontrollably. "Give me that." In a flash, he snatched his wand from her and walked away, leaving her alone in the darkness beneath the stairwell. The sounds of everyone bustling through the castle finally reached her ears as she watched him walking away, stunned and somehow unable to move. He pushed through a gaggle of first years and disappeared around the corner, a tall haze of billowing robes.

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	3. Desperation

**Disclaimer: **I clearly don't own Harry Potter. Do you remember the part in the last book where a tornado leveled the entire Gryffindor common room? No? THERE'S YER PROOF.

**A/N: **I know I know I know. It's been three years. Out of curiosity, I was checking out my FF page the other day, and I ran across this story. Then I read all the lovely reviews from people who put this story on their alert list. Then I remembered I wrote a third chapter three years ago, and I figured what the hay. I may or may not continue this depending on the response, but if you like it, plz let me know! I would greatly appreciate it, friends.

And now, without further ado, the third chapter to this three year old story! Woohoo!

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All throughout dinner she'd try to tell them...tried to say anything at all that would open up the conversation to Malfoy, but she found herself almost physically incapable. In fact, she found herself incapable of saying just about anything, choosing to pick moodily at her food instead.

"Oye," Ron spoke through a mouthful of turkey stuffing. "Wha's wrong with you, 'Mione?"

Her heart jumped a little bit. "It's nothing...just another Arithmancy test in the morning." It took an enormous amount of effort to smile, and even then it felt foreign and twisted on her face. "I feel like I'm forgetting to study something..."

Harry laughed lightly at that, taking a swig of pumpkin juice. "You always feel that way, Hermione. Even when you get straight Outstandings on your O.W.L's-"

"I only got an Exceeds Expectations in Defense Against the Dark Arts!" She squeaked out of habit. "I hate it when people say I aced it...it's not true..."

Harry's gaze lingered on her a moment before he shrugged and heaped a giant spoonful of marshmallow pudding into his mouth, launching forth into another conversation about Ron's chances on the Gryffindor quidditch team. She sighed to herself in relief, raising her goblet to her lips quietly.

After dinner she told the boys she was going to the library, as usual. They grumbled in response, hunched over a game of Wizard's Chess, and barely noticed her step through the Fat Lady's portrait into the empty hallway.

_What to do now..._

She knew exactly what she was supposed to do-the trouble was making herself do it. Very slowly, she started down the hallway, breathing evenly and telling herself over and over again that she had to do this. It'd be a crime _not_ to tell Dumbledore. _I'd practically be an accomplice_, she thought, her light footsteps echoing through the long hall. It was her duty to tell. It was her _responsibility._

_But if that's true...then why do I feel so awful? _

She could figure that one out for herself. Putting herself in Malfoy's position made it seem so much more difficult, and she could hardly imagine what would happen if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named found out that he failed.

"It's not a question...he will find out," she muttered to herself, turning around a corner with her eyes on the ground.

"What was that, dear?" An elderly woman with a heavily-powdered face spoke from a golden-framed portrait on her left. Her teeth were a dazzling shade of white behind her red-stained lips, her wig a shocking shade of orange.

Hermione shrieked and the lady tutted at her. "Er- it was nothing!" Blushing, she sped down the hallway, heart starting to race again. She wondered what was at stake for Malfoy. She wondered if he had the Mark on his arm, that twisted serpent and skull tattooed into his pale flesh...

_Of course he has it, _she reminded herself, rolling her eyes. If he was a Death Eater, he had to have it. For some reason, the thought of the Dark Mark on Malfoy made her feel sick and she stopped again, only paces away from Dumbledore's office. She looked ahead blankly, wondering if Draco had received it willingly, a smug look on his face with his blonde head held high. She looked down at the ground, thinking.

_Or maybe it had been different..._

"I've been here all night, Granger. I was thinking maybe you wouldn't come."

Her breath caught in her throat as he emerged from the corner, twirling his wand around between his thumb and index finger. She was at a loss for words and simply watched him approach, dumbstruck, listening to his drawling voice echo down the empty hallway.

"Actually, that's a lie. I've been here ever since we had our..._discussion _earlier. You made me miss my dinner, Mudblood." He looked like hell but for the first time his appearance wasn't a shock to her; she was starting to get used to it.

Hermione hated the fact that she was near tears. Truly, she did. "What do you think you're going to do, Malfoy? Do you think you're going to _stop_ me from telling? And if you are actually daft enough to try, calling me a Mudblood isn't going to get you very far, now is it?" She stomped up to him, closing the small gap between them. "So hurry up with whatever it is you plan on doing so I can properly inform the Headmaster that we have a Death Eater in our school."

He scowled down at her. "I admit," he started lightly, looking away. "Calling you a Mudblood maybe wasn't the smartest move..."

"No. It wasn't." She sighed, that empty sort of pain spreading through her chest, almost burning. Suddenly she looked up at him, defiant. "Let me see it."

He looked at her like she was crazy. "What the hell are you on about?"

Feeling reckless and so horribly confused for the first time in a long time, she grabbed his wrist and pulled up the sleeve of his robe. He didn't even try to wrench away; in fact, his arm went limp in her hand, consenting. His skin was flush...unspeakably hot...

"Oh," she breathed, wide eyes glued in horror to his forearm. There it was. A twisting, black serpent with its fangs bared, tumbling out of the mouth of a skull with slanted eyes. Except it didn't look tattooed, it look like it had been carved into his skin, the lines deep and horribly raw-looking. The skin around it was still raised and bruised. Fresh. "It hurts?" she asked.

Surprisingly, he answered. "Yes, still. Getting it hurt worse than I thought it would." His arm twitched in her hand as he recalled the memory.. "The moment he walked in the door I just shut up and showed him my arm- it didn't matter whether I wanted it or not at that point. Merlin, I swear it was worse than the Cruciatus..."

She let his arm fall out of her grasp, horrified. "You've had the Cruciatus performed on you? _By whom?" _

Suddenly his eyes went cold and he sneered, holding his arm close to him like she'd wounded it. "That's none of your business. In fact, none of this is your business. You just love poking your nose where it doesn't belong, don't you? It's pathetic, really."

Hermione actually laughed to herself, a flare of hatred she didn't know she had welling up in the pit of her stomach. "Oh, _I'm _pathetic?I didn't even _try_ to find anything out about you, Malfoy-I figured you weren't important enough for me to even have suspicions. You practically showed me everything I needed to see! Honestly...what Voldemort could possibly want with you is beyond me." She watched him twitch visibly and scoffed. "So don't go calling _me _pathetic, Malfoy."

His face was oddly still as he tipped his head forward to her, as if commending her. "Alright, then. Go on and do it. But if you think that I'm going to somehow _cooperate _with him, you're mad. The moment you take another step towards that statue, you better believe I'm out of here. No one will stop me from leaving...you can't be in two places at once, Granger. Hell, maybe I'll cause some damage on the way out. Might as well go out in a blaze of glory, don't you think? Take some people down with me?" His nostrils flared as he breathed, his wand now held tightly in his clenched fist.

She looked into his gray eyes, searching. "What will he do to you if you fail?"

He backed away from her, repulsed. "Don't even act like you care. Nothing sickens me more than feigned pity." Malfoy paused, looking sideways down the empty hallway, a nasty grin on his face. It didn't at all reach his eyes. "What will he do?" He seemed to be asking himself. "I wouldn't go back to the Dark Lord...I'd be insane to go back and think he wouldn't kill me." At this he let out an empty laugh. "He'd mess around with me for a bit first, probably in front of my parents to teach them a lesson. Then again, it wouldn't be the first time." Slowly, he turned to face her, and the smile was wiped clean from his face. In fact, he had no expression at all. Just dead features. "If you really want to know, Granger, I'd probably try to hide. But we all know you can't hide. Karkoroff figured that one out, didn't he? I suppose it'd be refreshing, though. Nothing could possibly be worse than being here another day." She watched, horrorstruck, as he backed away another step and glanced down the hallway quickly. "So take another step, Granger. I've wanted out of this castle for months now...finally you've given me a proper excuse."

Hermione opened her mouth for a bit, gaping, and closed it again. All the breath-all of her ability to speak-was caught up at the base of her throat, and she found herself capable of doing nothing but staring at him widely, horrified. With a trembling hand she raised her own wand to him and he narrowed his eyes, snapping his up towards her in a flash. "What am I supposed to do, then?" Her own voice shocked her, and she needed a few moments of silence before she could continue. "I don't like you, Malfoy," she blurted.

"The feeling is mutual."

"Even though I may not like you...you have to believe that Dumbledore can help you. You're a smarmy ass and I've loathed you since the moment we met, but you don't deserve this. Just trust me this once...don't run out of here and get yourself killed. As much as I may despise you, I can't have that on my conscience." Hermione swallowed hard and took a hesitant step forward. "I'll help you."

He snorted. "I don't give a shit about your conscience, you know."

"Understandably so," she breathed, eying the ground intensely. "Do you give a..._shit_," she tensed a little bit, not used to such foul words leaving her mouth, "about your parents? What about your friends?"

"I don't have any friends, you should know that, Mudblood. And I do give a shit about my parents, that's the only reason I've done all this in the first place." His eyes leveled with hers. They were absolutely depthless...unreadable. "You think Dumbledore can help me _and_ my parents?"

"Yes. I don't think so, I know so."

Malfoy laughed bitterly. "That's the problem with you Gryffindors, you think Dumbledore is some bloody savior. You think that old loon can get you out of anything. I'm going to let you in on something, Granger." At this he took a few steps forward until he was uncomfortably close, just millimeters away. He sensed her discomfort and grinned before continuing. "No amount of good or light could ever overpower something so dark. You can't fight him. You can't win. When will you Gryffindors ever understand that?"

Hermione looked up at him defiantly. "I refuse to believe that."

"Well then that's your own problem," he answered lightly, flashing her a very small and humorless smile. "Now, where were we? Ah, right. You were about to be a tattle-telling bitch and I was about to leave this castle in a blaze of smoke and glory. Although," he begin, lifting his wand and resting it lightly on the tip of her nose. She flinched. "Wouldn't it make more sense for me to just put a body-bind curse on you so I have more time? How does that sound?"

The way his eyes lit up at the thought of hexing her frightened Hermione, but she kept her eyes on his resolutely. "No, I have a better idea. Lets make a deal."

—-

R&R, chil'rens!


End file.
